Reasons never matter, once Death comes cold and bold and takes the living by the hand. You count up your dead, every one.

This fight coming is not a battle of weapons, but a battle of wills.

The city guardsmen were like the keres, doom-bringers of merciless vengeance.

What we hold sacred is honor, justice, and glory. You need not swear allegiance to our storm god, to serve with us. Fighters are among us from many lands, with many gods and many beliefs. Believe as you will. What is between a man and his god is theirs alone to say.

Your honor blinds you, Tempus, to what's right and wrong these days.

Every man heals himself.

But we're dying here.